


Spoils of War

by Kismetcanbiteme



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/F, War Bride Au, Warbride!clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 09:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20172064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kismetcanbiteme/pseuds/Kismetcanbiteme
Summary: “Is this her?” the general regards Clarke distastefully, and Clarke tries not to be offended.Dante rushes to answer bowing low before her. “Yes, just as the king has requested and let this be a step towards peace… for both our countries”The general smiled coldly “I suppose that would depend on whether or not Arkadia knows better than to invade our country looking for resources that don't belong to them now doesn't it.” The king seems thoroughly mollified by that and backs away slowly.“This girl as promised” he says quietlyor Arkadia loses a war and Trigeda wants Clarke





	Spoils of War

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to get through some writers block. Enjoy!

She’s being sold. As Clarke is led through the blue gray stone halls of a palace that was once to be hers that’s all she can think. Her mother is selling her and Clarke can’t help but hate her for it. She knows it’s harsh. They lost the war, and now the winner takes the spoils. Namely her. 

The war between Arkadia and the savages, the Trigeda, had gone on for centuries. Towards the end she doubted anyone remembered what caused Arkadia and the proud kingdom to their north to fight. All anyone remembered was the bitter rivalry. 

Clarke hates the frigid northern country with every bone in her body. The Griffins were a proud family and had close ties with the King. They were even hoping to marry Clarke to the prince in time. Now, Clarke supposes, that was for nothing. More anger fills her. The prince was the very reason they were involved in this mess. If Clarke had her way they would have never spoken to the royal family. She would be a free woman, riding through the hills with her stable girl. Her heart gives a pang. Lexa was gone. Trigeda had claimed her as one of their own. Her best friend in the entire world. Everything she wanted was gone in an instant. By rights Lexa was Trigedian, and by their laws she had to join their army for a least a year before settling down. That was three years ago. Clarke is twenty two now and the woman she wants is nowhere to be found.

As the great oak doors of the throne room loom closer, and the guards on either side of her tighten their hands on her arms. Clarke allows herself to pretend. She isn’t here. She’s with Lexa in the small cottage she had shown Clarke when they were girls. Its cleaned up now, not so bedraggled. Lexa leans against the doorway and smiles at her. She hears the babbling brook and smells honey cakes, Lexa’s favorite. Just as shes leaning in to finally kiss her-

“Lady Clarke Griffin, your majesty,” the attendant announces as the doors open to reveal the court standing somberly.

Shes led to the center of the room, and her mother weeps to her right. Clarke can’t look at her.

“My dear Lady, King Dante starts, I am deeply sorry for the necessity of this grave decision.”

Clarke remains silent but the king continues as though she were weeping, trying to explain to her why this injustice is permitted “There is no other way dear lady! If there were I would find it, but Trigeda is insistent that you be given to them along with the spoils of the war...to be the King’s bride.” he says sinking down into his throne as Clarke’s mother gives another wail.

The prince, Clarke’s would-be fiance looks bored and a bit petulant. He rises and says “Yes yes I'm sure we all regret the fate of lady Clarke, but we have to hand her over by sundown so if we could..” he makes a move along motion with his hands either ignorant or uncaring towards the melancholy mood of the court.

Clarke feels herself go faint “sundown” she breathes “so soon?” She thought she had time. Time to say goodbye, time to grieve the loss of her freedom, the loss of her life.

“Yes, my dear” the king says, and to his credit Clarke sees his eyes brimming with genuine remorse. “And now it is time you should leave us”

Clarke curtsies to the court on shaky legs, and though she is still angry allows her mother to kiss her forehead and choke out an “I love you” that Clarke whispers back.

With that she is whisked back out of the throne room and led back down the stone halls and taken toward the front of the castle. The court follows her to watch as she is stripped of her life. She rolls her eyes and thinks she will probably be the talk of the palace for at least the next week. Outside it has grown colder something she supposes she will have to get used to the cold if she is to live in Trigeda with the king.

Outside there is a caravan waiting for her. Hundreds of horses and a carriage at the base of the palace. For a savage county they certainly have fine travel gear. King Dante goes before them to speak to the general stationed at the bottom of the palace steps. The general is tall and slim, with cheekbones that could cut glass. Her eyes are painted with the warpaint the Trigeda warriors favor. In short Clarke is terrified. She’s thankful Lexa at least taught her to fight before she left.

“Is this her?” the general regards Clarke distastefully, and Clarke tries not to be offended.

Dante rushes to answer bowing low before her. “Yes, just as the king has requested and let this be a step towards peace… for both our countries”

The general smiled coldly “I suppose that would depend on whether or not Arkadia knows better than to invade our country looking for resources that don't belong to them now doesn't it.” The king seems thoroughly mollified by that and backs away slowly. 

“This girl as promised” he says quietly

“Good we leave at once.” she replies and gestures at Clarke to follow her. The guards holding Clarke's arms try to manhandle her forward but the general turns and barks out at them “She knows how to walk by herself doesn't she?” and from there Clarke is alone and being ushered into a carriage made of fine red wood lined with fur inside. For a prisoner, she thinks, this is rather kind treatment.

* * *

  
  


They travel for days. Clarke is too tired to sleep and too sad to cry, so she stares at the carriage wall until one day they pass a town. The general she's heard called Anya shoves a pad of paper and a piece of charcoal wordlessly into the carriage window. And so Clarke draws. She draws Arkadia and her father and her mother and Lexa. Lexa again and again and again. She draws all the things that have been ripped away from her forever.

Too soon the carriage stops. And Anya is opening the door gesturing to her to get out. Clarke freezes though. It’s too close and too much and all she can picture is some brutish beastly savage man bending her over the war table and- Anya picks her up out of the carriage, muddy silk petticoats and all, and deposits her on the path.

“Walk” is all she says. The carriage rolls away with most of her drawings still in it except for one of Lexa clutched in her fist. She holds it close and prays for strength. Anya leads her into the tallest tower she has ever seen.

Its freezing and she is ushered into the castle quickly, her summery silk dress too bare outside the confines of the warm carriage. Once inside, she is herded up the dark grey steps into a room with a claw foot tub at the center. An entire team of women undress her quickly, heedless of Clarke’s discomfort, pluck the drawing from her hand, and scrub her from head to toe in soaps and oils that smell like lemons and pine. They wash her hair, rub her dry, and dress her in a white gown that could qualify as a night dress. When she asks the oldest woman about this she tuts and says “Of course it's a night dress, child. It's getting late”

“But aren't I supposed to be presented to the king?”

“Yes of course”

“But in my nightdress? She blanches It's hardly proper”

The woman rolls her eyes and continues to braid her hair. “Child, the king does not care one way or the other,” she says heedless that  _ Clarke  _ might care if she meets the king in her nightdress.

They fit her with a warm quilted robe and slippers and push her out the door. Clarke is rather tired of being pushed at this point and really just wants to sleep, although she’s so anxious about being married to a stranger she isn’t sure she could. Still as she’ led down the hall by her new ladies maids Clarke holds her head high. The hall they're in is circular and the tapestries have warm colors like scarlett and emerald. The door she is stopped in front of doesn't look as grand as the many throne rooms she’s seen, and she furrows her brow when it opens and reveals a small room with two velvet high backed chairs and a small table with a plate of cookies on it in front of a roaring fire. She can’t see the occupant of one of the chairs, but she steels herself and steps inside.

Clarke was expecting a lot of things. A burly man, a cold throne room, a demand for her to remove her clothes. What she was not expecting was a child. Well teenager. A boy of about twelve summers smiling sheepishly at her.

“King… Aden?” Clarke asks stepping closer

“Uh ye...yes hi!” The boy stands and sticks out his hand which Clarke hesitantly shakes

“You must be hungry. I have cookies and cocoa!” he says rather excitedly

Clarke sits in a daze watching as he pours her a full mug and puts some cookies on a plate for her. “I… I beg your pardon your majesty but are… are we supposed to get married?” Clarke had looked after children older than this boy.

The young king looks alarmed “Married! To me? Is that what they told you?” Clarke nods and he slaps his forehead “Of course they told you that. They must have assumed I meant… No” he says “They didn’t …. You aren't marrying me, and you must have been really scared to come here huh?” his eyes go wide in horror “I just offered cookies and cocoa as if everything was fine.” he says, looking rather like a sad puppy.

Clarke hastens to comfort him “No! No! I love cookies and cocoa. How did you know?” and shoves one in her mouth cheeks puffing out comically . Aden laughs a bit, and Clarke feels twelve times lighter. She swallows her cookie and asks, face growing somber “Your majesty, if I'm not marrying you, why am I here?”

* * *

Clarke is pale and Clarke is more scared than she has ever been in her life. Aden was so happy to tell her she was engaged to the leader of his military, that she couldn't choke out that that was a much much worse prospect than marrying a twelve (“and three quarters”he protested) year old king. The Commander was ruthless and vicious. This was known throughout the world. And now Clarke was headed toward the bedchambers of a savage beast. Aden had sent her off cheerfully not noticing how stricken she looked, and she couldn't bring herself to tell him how much she really really didn't want this. Clarke wishes they hadn't taken away her drawing of Lexa. She needed it

The handmaid's lead her further and further up the tower on weak legs until they stand before a wooden carved door. They leave her there disappearing back down the staircase. She could run Clarke thinks they would catch her but maybe they would be so angry they'd kill her instead. No. she isn't ready to die. So she raises one trembling hand and knocks.

A voice from inside calls faintly “Come in”

She pushes open the door slowly and nearly collapses.

“I...I’m sorry for all the red tape, but I said I would never leave you and I meant it. And Aden was excited to meet you, and I should have told you about all this and our rise to the throne and my family and becoming the commander and- and well… I just- please say something.” Lexa babbles to a stunned Clarke, green eyes hopeful. 

There she is. Standing there in a thin black nightdress looking so  _ so  _ beautiful with more scars and muscles ( and oh god is that a tattoo??) than when she left but still  _ Lexa _ . So it shouldn't have been a shock when Clarke lets out a sob and dashes across the room to tackle her onto the bed hands and lips everywhere ripping at the dress to get to skin and upon finding it pulling her as close as humanly possible. Clarke kisses every bit of precious skin she can reach finally landing on her lips and staying there until they can’t breathe. She scrambles to grab handfuls of her best friend, of  _ Lexa.  _ The green eyed girl tries to speak but can’t seem to find her breath as Clarke cups her jaw and drops open mouthed kisses on her throat. They both ignore the tears streaming down their cheeks.

Soon Clarke ditches the robe and slippers and shoves Lexa under the covers pushing them as close as they were when squeezed into Clarke’s twin bed as children. Clarke

s head on Lexa’s chest Lexas arms wrapped around her shoulders and hips. “So.” Lexa begins, “You aren't angry?”

Clarke picks up her head to look Lexa in the eye “Oh I’m  _ furious  _ with you” she said satisfied at Lexa’s wince “We will be talking about this extensively in the morning but for now let’s just sleep. I’m tired, you made me ride in a carriage for a  _ week _ , Lexa.”

Lexa chuckles “You must realize why that was necessary, my love…”

“Shhhhh, sleep Lexa. You can explain yourself to me when I’ve had at least twelve hours in bed with you”

“Clarke you can’t possibly sleep that long.”

“Who said anything about sleep?” Clarke smirks into the commanders chest.

Lexa drops a final kiss to Clarke’s temple and they both drift off smiling.


End file.
